


Desperation

by Broba



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Desperation, Other, Urine, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 14:38:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broba/pseuds/Broba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was feeling low, I admit it. No comments in days, what was even the point of writing stuff if no one reads it, I thought? Then a new friend of mine, sM, told me that actually a few people had been reading me on the kinkmeme and liked what I had done. I was cheered up immensely! I'd been under the impression that the last month or so all my stories had just been falling flat and unwanted but in fact they had been read, it was just what I needed.</p>
<p>Naturally, I promised sM I'd write him anything he wanted as I was so happy, and he had a certain, ah, taste to explore. Namely, pee desperation. Needing to go but being prevented from doing so. Oh yes, sM wanted me to explore all right. So, I thought, off to Vegas go the boys!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperation

The rooms in The Sublime were all decorated in slightly varying shades of pastel with stuccoed walls and hints of Spanish architecture, the place wanted to look as though it were a hold over from a mysterious and distant time in the wild past. The place actually had a fountain in the courtyard, where gaily dressed señoritas would greet guests and generally add a sense of old-timey colour, but the rooms all had wireless internet and cable on the wide flatscreens, which somewhat spoiled the effect. John had expressed doubts about the choice of hotel when they had rolled up off the Vegas strip but Bro had been insistent in his muted way and Dave had insisted that the place was utterly horrible and trashy, therefore perfect.  
  
The whole trip had been Bro's idea originally, a road adventure to Vegas, to take in the sighs and see a little of the open road. John didn't remember exactly how he had been roped into it, but before he knew it he was being cajoled by Dave to ask his dad if he could go along, and then suddenly he was on a plane to Texas and from there to Nevada in Bro's horrible Oldsmobile. It was wonderful to meet Dave in person at last, although he found Dave's brother to be a little... odd.  For one thing, the man never seemed to speak, but John still felt as though some mysterious communication took place to indicate his requirements any time he needed something. He had elevated cool, silent aloofness to the point that it became quite noisy.  
  
They had made plans to meet up and go to dinner around sunset, when the bars and restaurants really started to open up around town. Meanwhile, Bro had simply assumed that Dave and John would find something to do. Dave had just shrugged and was fine with it, making his way to the small amusement arcade that was attached to the hotel bar. It seemed to John that some kind of coin operated amusement machine was installed on every corner in Vegas. Meanwhile, John was unpacking in his room. He had one to himself that his dad had booked, but Dave and his brother were bother sharing. When John had expressed surprise he was met with blank stares, it apparently hadn't occurred to the brothers Strider that they would be separated. John pulled his clothes out of his case one at a time and neatly set them in the provided drawers and wardrobe with conscientious neatness. He could only imagine the chaos that the Striders would already no doubt have made of their room.  
  
Even in the air-conditioned hotel, the heat of Vegas was stifling. John had taken to carrying a bottle of water around with him at all times, he was constantly thirsty. He loved getting into the sunshine, it was true, but Vegas might well prove to be a bit much, he thought. As he slugged back more water John took a last look around the room- perfect. Everything put away neatly, just as his dad would have liked. He had changed into pale cream slacks and a turquoise polo neck, and was feeling hella classy and super fresh. He left his room and clicked the door shut behind him when he suddenly realised- the key to the room was in his other pants, that he had changed out of. He rattled the door handle but it was an old fashioned lock that didn't have to be specifically locked by key. He was locked out. He groaned in dismay and pondered what to do. Dave was in the room next to his, he decided to knock on the door as he could call reception from their phone and get someone to open his door for him.  
  
He nearly ran into Dave, who was leaving the room just as he was about to knock. Dave muttered something about getting hold of extra quarters and demanded John join him back down in the arcade- apparently he had discovered some ancient and shitty machine that had the original Final Fight complete with pink neon-haired punks and dubiously muscular homoerotic wrestlers. John was about to answer but Dave was already heading determinedly to the stairwell. He caught the door to Dave's room before it shut, and let himself in. He immediately felt like an intruder, he never liked being in another person's room, it just felt wrong. It was like his dad always told him- never go in another bedroom. Now he thought about it, his dad has actually been telling him not to go into his dad's room, but he had always extended that ban to other people's domiciles and it just felt wrong to be in there.  
  
John heard the sound of running water to his horror and realised that Bro was taking a shower in the adjoining bathroom. It would be the ultimate embarrassment to be stood there looking like an idiot if Bro wandered out in a towel- or worse, nothing at all. Unacceptable! John raced to the bedside phone and dialled up reception. Fortunately the sound of the shower was quite persistent, and Bro appeared to be singing- there was a constant stream of sick beatboxing echoing from the bathroom. He heard the receptionist pick up and tried to whisper his problem to her. Unfortunately the woman couldn't hear him, and soon started to accuse him of trying some kind of a trick on her. Frankly John thought her attitude was quite appalling for a staff member. In the end he gave up trying and put down the phone.  
  
Suddenly he heard the shower shut off to his horror, and looked around himself wildly. Hitting upon an idea he let himself out of the open patio windows onto the narrow Spanish balcony with the wrought-iron rail. John started telling himself what was going to happen, in the hope that by planning it all out in his mind he would make it somehow come to pass. Bro would leave the bathroom, get dressed- John prayed he would get dressed- and then go about whatever business he intended on. As soon as he left, John could use the phone to try again, and this time he would be able to talk properly without the shower in the background making him nervous, he would be calm and polite, but firm! Very firm. And then he would get let back into his room, and Dave would never know just how much a forgetful ridiculous derp he had been. This was a perfect plan, and Bro ruined it perfectly.  
  
After the shower, Bro jived out into the room, dripping water everywhere. He plugged in a pair of travel hairdryers he took with him everywhere and admired himself in the dresser mirror for a moment, as naked as a jaybird and soaking wet. Bro didn't believe in towels, in that he literally didn't believe that they were a thing, and so he went through his usual ritual of drying himself with hairdryers, slowly and methodically. Sometimes he would pause and flip a double-pistol cowboy pose in the mirror. There was nothing John could do at this juncture but wait. The Nevada sun was torturous. John swallowed thickly and drank down the last of his water in a few gulps. Behind him he could hear Bro beatboxing again over the constant drone of his hair dryers. By now Bro was blasting his hair upward from either side into an electric Mohawk and doing a little dance. John suppressed the urge to groan. He was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable, and not just from the situation he found himself in. The water was working it's way through his body inexorably and he realised to his horror that he needed to urinate. He clamped his thighs together sharply and sucked on his lip, staring at the distant horizon intently and trying to think of anything else. Leaning forwards a little he looked over the edge, they were only three stories up but the people in the courtyard below looked like little dolls. He found his eyes fixating on that damned fountain in the middle of the courtyard. It mocked him cruelly. John had never believed the old wives tale that rushing water made one want to pee, but looking at that fountain made him see the old wives had a point.  
  
John mopped sweat from his brow, the sun was interminable. The heat was not just intense, it was actively painful. He felt that it was assaulting him with hammer blows of light. As he stared into the fountain below he licked his lips, parched and dry, and imagined being laid out on a beach, a calming soothing beach by a warm ocean. He closed his eyes and concentrated, it was helping. There was a cool breeze, and his beach was utterly unoccupied. He could see it all clearly in his mind's eye.  
  
In his daydream, John slowly ran his hands down his body over the swell of his belly to find the elastic waist of his swimming trunks. Before he could think on it any further, he was pushing the trunks down over his thighs. His penis sprang up, whipped into tumescence by the pain and need of his full bladder. He stared up into an infinite blue sky and saw a rod of golden droplets float upwards away from him in a perfect arc, rising, shrinking, slowing and then falling again like rain. Hot droplets splashed on his cheeks and nose, he blinked away stinging beads of it as the urine hit his face.  
  
John blinked awake suddenly. What the hell was wrong with him? It was the sun doing it to him, he was going a little sun-crazy. He squeezed his legs together painfully, he was getting desperate. He had never before had to hold it in for so long. Never in his life had he been so utterly separated from any possible acceptable place to pee!  
  
John let out a low moan, he couldn't bear it. He was certain that he was doing himself some kind of injury, and his whole midriff now hurt. Behind him in the room, Bro had finally deigned to dress himself, and was popping his collar with the air of a set-square and protractor.  
  
He needed options. He looked at the empty water bottle in his hand. Could he? No. John put that idea right out of his mind, that sort of thinking was just begging to lead into some kind of hilarious shenanigans he wanted no part in. Glancing to the side, he looked over the balcony rail and to the balcony next door. He realised suddenly that he was looking at his own balcony- and had he locked up the door from balcony to room when he left? He didn't think so, there had seemed no point. If he could just clear the gap from this balcony to the next one, then he'd be home free! He had to try. There was only one problem- between him and the slender gap between the balconies was the doorway into the bedroom containing Bro, still performing his legendary infinite ablutions. John was just about desperate enough to try anything however. He glanced around the door jamb into the room. Bro was... John hesitated in sheer perplexed awe. Bro was performing what could only be described as a booty dance, watching himself in the mirror and nodding in approval. The muscular rump of the elder Strider brother pumped and writhed suggestively in his general direction, and John swallowed fitfully. Bro seemed mesmerised by what he was seeing, but John knew that Striders were liable to jump at the slightest provocation and he couldn't risk Bro catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of an eye.  
  
John looked up the wall beside the doorway. A wooden trestle covered in carefully cultivated ivy wound upwards. It might just support his weight... he clambered up without a second thought, leaving the empty water bottle behind him. Climbing was difficult not because of the height- John had never been afraid of heights, for some reason, he had always been perfectly comfortable with them, but the pain and urgency making his thighs cramp was certainly distracting. John edged his way over the door lintel, swarming across the wall like a spider, but he was running out of handholds. He found himself perched on the narrowest wooden lip surrounding the doorway with no obvious way forwards and a long way downwards. It was too far to leap to his balcony, he was certain to make a lot of noise crashing onto it from above like that, even if he didn't break something in the process. There was one hope- an iron sconce bolted to the bricks, from which hung a rather withered looking flower basket. It was hanging directly between the two balconies. John licked his lips and thought back to all of the action films he had grown up on. He took off his belt and slipped it free, his pants immediately loosened which provided a momentary relief from the constant pain he was feeling. He flicked it outward towards the sconce, looping it over, and with a desperate grab he was able to snatch the free end as it swing back toward him. Now he had a belt looped over an iron sconce and with a quick swing he would be back in his room and he could pee to his heart's content. It couldn't fail.  
  
In the bedroom, Bro was finally satisfied. He planted his cap on his head, nodded one more time at his reflection, and slouched off to meet his little brother downstairs. Jogging down the stairs, he took the last few flights of steps in blinking flashsteps and appeared behind Dave, giving him a friendly attacking and knuckling his hair fondly. Dave whined and bitched about it, and they argued over who was supposed to have gone to get John as they stepped out.  
  
Above them, John reflected on a series of wrong decisions he had made recently. He was forced to admit that his brilliant plan could fail. It had, in fact, failed. He was hanging three stories in the air from an iron sconce which looked less then sturdy, and thanks to the fact that he was using his belt to hang from, his trousers had worked their way down to his thighs. He had been forced to spread his legs and grip with his toes onto the balcony edges to the left and right of him, to take as much weight off the belt as he could. This meant that he was perfectly stable, but unfortunately perfectly unable to do anything else. He had been hanging there for a few minutes, but it felt like forever, and his fingers were cramping up. Worse, he needed to pee more badly then ever now, and he was at the end of his endurance in that regard. The pressure and the stress had conspired to give him the most inappropriate and unwanted erection he had ever experienced, which even now was poking free of his boxers like a traitor.  
  
It was time to accept facts. John was in an impossible situation and there was no point pretending he could think his way out of it with some smart plan any more. He closed his eyes and whimpered, it was coming. He could feel it. His crotch felt like it was about to pop like a balloon. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to give in to the shameful tears gathering. There was a faint splash. His eyes flickered open and he stared into the fading dusty brickwork ahead of him as he gushed uncontrollably for all he was worth. It felt to him like the most exquisite swell of pain and immediate relief following so soon after that it barely hurt at all, and he sighed with an almost religious sense of ecstasy.  
  
He heard something below him and looked down, and his eyes widened with horror.  
"Oh wha- Oh- OH! Fuck! Egbert?"  
Below him, the furious Dave Strider was staring up at him and wiping at his face and hair frantically, while a few feet away Bro was regarding the situation stoically.  
"Dave! I'm sorry!" John shouted down, "I can explain everything!"  
"Hey Dave," remarked Bro, "why is your little buddy so fuckin' hard core?"


End file.
